


What stays, what fades away

by daylight_angel



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: Bisexual Male Character, Infidelity, M/M, Polyamory, Queer Themes, Trapper is probably like a kinsey five here, a very very closeted kinsey five but still, all the relationships other then BJ/Trap are mentions not explict, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 15:30:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17880389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daylight_angel/pseuds/daylight_angel
Summary: in an alternate timeline BJ Hunnicutt and Trapper John McIntyre occupy the same tent and camp at the same time. Sharing the same best friend is a little harder.When BJ and Hawkeye start shacking up, Trapper can't help but snap.





	What stays, what fades away

**Author's Note:**

> This is inspired by justalittlegreen's dark!Trapper fic but a little softer, because I'm a sap.

They get stuck in the supply shed together, like a fucking cosmic joke. Trapper would honestly prefer being stuck in here with Frank Burns, that fucking lunatic, than BJ Hunnicutt and his smug queer face.

"Well," Hunnicutt says, hands on his hips. "Guess we're stuck."

"Way to state the obvious," Trapper mutters, kicking at the door. _Why couldn't it be Baker? Or Hot lips? Or Haw-_ he cuts that train of thought off viciously, slamming the mental door on the possibility so hard he feels the reverberations in his teeth. BJ turns to him with a smirk, the one he uses when he's about to make a joke, the one Trapper used to appreciate before he started waking up in the middle of the night to the sound of Hawkeye's cot shaking under the weight of two men.

"Hey, you think-" BJ starts, and Trapper scowls, not in the mood.

"Don't," he says.

BJ's face falls. "What is your  _problem_?" he snarls back. "We used to be friends!"

_Yeah, before you stole my best friend._ Trapper almost says. Instead he scoffs, covering the slip. “Yeah. Well, that was before."

"Is this about Hawkeye? About what happened?"

"Nothing happened, except some fucking queer moved in on Hawkeye," Trapper spits back, perversely enjoying the way Hunnicutt's face darkens, "but that has nothing to do with me."

"Yes it does, god _dammit_ McIntyre!"

"Fuck off,  _Beej_ ," Trapper sneers, uncomfortable.

"No, c'mon, let's get this over with," BJ insists, stepping closer.

"Fuck off," he repeats, and starts searching the shelves.

"C'mon-" BJ stops talking, watching him paw around the medical supplies. "What are you doing?"

"Hawkeye hid a flask of gin in here a while back. I figure if I have to be stuck in here,” he leaves the _with you_ implied, “I'd rather be drunk."

"Good idea," BJ responds, searching the shelf nearest him.

" 'least you're useful," Trapper mutters, shoving aside a box of gauze with more force than necessary.

BJ sighs. "Look, you don't have to like me, but can we talk about it? For Hawkeye's sake?"

Trapper pauses, feeling just a little guilty. They'd been fine for months, until Trapper had caught BJ and Hawkeye in the Swamp one night and realized he wasn't the only tall-blonde-and-handsome Hawkeye carried on with. Before that he'd actually _liked_ Hunnicutt and it had been fun, the three musketeers. BJ fit in well, the perfect mix between his humor and Hawkeye's, and the kind of doctor that put Burns to shame, challenged him and Hawk, even only months out of residency. He eyes the back of Hunnicutt's head and frowns, thinking.

They'd been having such fun, good clean dirty fun, perverse practical jokes and parties, all three of them working so hard to hold each other and the camp up that Trapper hadn't noticed the subtle seduction going on right beneath his nose. It _hurt,_ damn it, finding out Hawkeye had found someone else, someone so much like himself. He isn't queer, not like Hawkeye is, but he felt _something_ for the man, something unnamed and scary and much too similar to how he feels for his wife. Hunnicutt though, Hunnicutt isn't like him, or the nurses, or the occasional chopper pilot Hawkeye's slept with before, Hunnicutt is  _real_ , wants Hawkeye for more than just a night.

_Just like you do,_ a traitorous voice in John's head whispers, a voice he ignores in favor of searching the bottom shelves vigorously for the flask. He doesn't want that, he _doesn't_. Hunnicutt can ride off into the sunset like some perverted romantic with Hawkeye if that's what they want except Hawkeye was _his_ , was his best friend and maybe more and John had been right on the cusp of several very uncomfortable conversations with himself before BJ waltzed in and replaced him. He’d wanted something, wanted more, and Hunnicutt had it instead. Trapper scoffs at himself and puts it out of his head, stuffs down the whys and hows and the complicated feelings until only anger is left simmering in his veins.

"Hey," BJ says from the other side of the room.

"Thought I told ya to fuck off."

"I found the gin," BJ says, and Trapper hears the telltale slosh of alcohol against metal. Sure enough, when he stands BJ is holding the flask.

"Gimme," Trapper says, desperate to drown this whole situation in gin if he has to.

"Not until you talk to me."

"There's nothing to talk about!" Trapper insists. BJ looks at him unimpressed and uncaps the flask, drinks from it. Trapper watches, itchy for a drink of his own.

"Fine! Just, give the booze here," he says, grabbing at the flask. Hunnicutt lets him take it this time, and Trapper gratefully swigs down a drink. "Look," he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, "I'm not gonna report ya, so what the hell do you even want?"

"I didn't think you would Trapper, that's not what this is about," BJ says as Trapper takes another drink. "It's about you and Hawkeye and not being an asshole." He plucks the flask out of Trapper's hands and takes a drink of his own. "He _misses_ you.”  

Trapper stiffens. "What the hell do you care Hunnicutt, you won!" He admits, hating that he thinks of it this way, "Why do you keep buggin' me?"

"Because you love him!" Hunnicutt finally explodes. "Because you love him and you love your wife and I'm probably the only person you'll ever meet who know  _ex_ _actly_ what that's like." He slumps to the floor, a tired frown underneath the mustache he's been growing.

"I don't..." Trapper starts. BJ stops him by holding up a hand.

"Spare me the denial John, just this once. You loved him, I know that, you _kn_ _ow_ that, hell, I think even Hawk does, deep down."

Trapper slides to the floor next to him, a temporary truce, and Hunnicutt sloshes the flask into his hand.

"You love her?" Trap asks after a long tense silence, passing the flask back and forth.

"Yes."

" _And_ you love him?"

"Yes." Hunnicutt fixes him with a steady look that makes Trapper squirm, like he can see down to his bones, his soul, his secrets.

"Then we're a coupla fucked up guys, Hunnicutt," Trap laughs, bitter, wishing he could be anywhere else. "How do you stomach it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Whatta you mean, what do I mean? Hunnicutt ya can't have both, it doesn't work like that."

"It can," BJ says easily.

"What, you gonna pack him home with your skivvies? Hide him from your wife in some fuckin' shit apartment? He deserves better than to be someone’s damn mistress." 

"Peg knows."

Trapper chokes on his drink. "The fuck, Hunnicutt."

BJ smiles, leaning over to steal the booze back, takes a long swallow Trapper wishes he wanted to look away from.

"Peg knows," He repeats. "We've got something of an understanding."

"What, you have your boy toy and she gets her own?" He sneers, getting up in Hunnicutt's face. "Or is she at home with your kid, wishing she had a real man for a husband?"

“You don't know what you're talking about," BJ responds, disappointedly unfazed. "Peg knows about me and Hawkeye, knows that I love him _and_ her. I'm sorry you can't have that, but don't for a second think I'm like you. I. Tell. Her. _Everything_."

"What, with army censors crawling up every piece of mail that goes through this stinking place? Not to mention Radar?"

Hunnicutt snorts, handing the booze back. "Right, Radar, good one."

Trapper looks at him like he's insane and slowly something dawns on Hunnicutt.

"You're serious?" he asks, concerned.

"About what?"

"John," and Trapper hates how tender BJ's voice gets, "Radar knows too."

Trapper freezes, hands shaking. "About you and Hawkeye?"

"About all of it. He's been protecting you since, well, I don't know when."

_Oh god Radar knows_ is all John can think, over and over, anxiety overwhelming his body and the room closing in around him.

"Trapper? Trap, breathe," a voice says, and Trap clings to whatever is in front of him, hands clasped around strong forearms, clutching for purchase or clarity or anything but blind stinking panic.

"Breathe," BJ repeats in a soothing voice, hands on Trapper's shoulders. "Deep in through your nose, two, three, and out your mouth." Trapper zeros in on BJ's face, desperately trying to follow his advice, chest tight and a feeling of nausea stuck in his gut. They breathe together, Trapper slowly coming down from the panic attack, BJ letting him dig his fingernails into his arms until the feeling in his chest releases and John can finally let go.

"There you are," BJ says, smiling and pats Trap once on the shoulder. They're kissing close, Hunnicutt's leg between Trap's knees from when he had moved in to help, and _god_ , Trap is shaking and drunk and frightened, so he can't be blamed when he leans forward and slots his mouth over BJ's.

The kiss is warm and rough and Hunnicutt tastes like sunshine and gin, intoxicating in a way Trapper didn't think anyone other then Hawkeye could be. He presses closer, in a frenzied grab for the warmth of BJ's skin, desperate to stop the shaking of his hands and heart, desperate to feel something other than the slick panic still sliding around his mind. He refuses to let himself think of anything besides sensation, the slide of lips underneath his, flicking buttons open and pulling up BJ's shirt, the soft fuzz of his chest underneath his fingers.

"Wait, Trapper, wait," BJ pants, pulling back. "What are you doing?"

Trapper growls. "You're the queer one Hunnicutt, I think ya'd know." He pulls the other man close and kisses him again, hard and bruising, catching BJ's lower lip between his teeth. He isn't expecting Hunnicutt to cup his face and turn the needy sexual kiss into something tender but he _does_ , kisses him just as hard but somehow sweet, thumb sweeping along his cheekbone. He pulls back again and Trapper squirms under his gaze. _Is this what Hawkeye feels like with him?_ He wonders before he can shut out the thought.  _S_ _afe?_

"We're not doing this," BJ says, softly smiling at him. Trapper tries to ignore the swoop of rejection in his stomach, tries to pull away but Hunnicutt won't let him. "Not _now_ ," he corrects, glancing at the blocked door, which Trap suddenly remembers could open at any minute.

"Oh," he says brokenly, too emotionally exhausted to panic again. BJ swoops in and captures his lips in a soft kiss before pulling back just enough to set his shirt to rights.

"C'mere," he says, sitting back against the shelves and pulling Trapper against him in a tight hug. If he were less tired Trap would make a joke about that being his line but he just follows, letting his body slot against BJ's. They're still too close, and if anyone but Hawkeye, or apparently _Radar_ , finds them Trapper doesn't know what will happen but he can't bring himself to care. Trapper is no stranger to, (not cuddling, this isn't cuddling, it _can't_ be), holding another man but Hawkeye is skinny and soft and chronically cold, wrapping himself around John like a pointy octopus. Hunnicutt is warm, solid beneath him, nearly exactly his height and perhaps stronger, and it's comforting to be held. He doesn't think about it, about what any of it means or why he wants to nuzzle into Hunnicutt's neck and fall asleep, just lets it happen.

"You're heavy," BJ teases, carding his fingers through Trapper's hair.

"Shut up," Trapper says, but there's no bite in it, none of the malice he can't bring himself to feel anymore. He winds his arms around BJ tentatively, letting himself be close. "When they find us I better be five feet away from you," he warns, and lets his head drop on Hunnicutt's chest, eyes closed.

"Okay," BJ says, clearly amused.

He falls asleep with BJ's hands in his hair and their arms wrapped around each other.

He wakes to a gentle shake on his arm and is still so tired he doesn't want to move.

"What," he says flatly, refusing to open his eyes. He feels BJ chuckle under his cheek, a deep rumble in his chest.

"Someone's here to rescue us," he says, and Trapper scrambles up. BJ grabs his arm before he can get too far. "Whoa, hey, I think it's just Hawk."

Trapper slumps back so that he's suitably far from Hunnicutt, but can't bring himself to move an inch farther.

"Hawkeye?" he calls, voice rough.

"Yeah," comes a distracted voice, "hang on I just gotta-" the door snaps open to reveal Hawkeye standing in the Korean dusk with a crowbar. Trapper might just be drunk and emotional, but he doesn't think he's ever seen a more beautiful sight.

"My hero," BJ says in a sly voice, fluttering his eyelashes a little.

"A regular knight in tarnished armor," Trapper agrees, getting up and brushing the dust off his knees. Hawkeye lights up, looking between them like he knows something's changed.

Trapper stops dead at the thought. _Has_ something changed? His chest feels lighter, like a weight he didn't even know was there has lifted, and watching the way BJ and Hawkeye touch as they walk out of the shed, just a little too close and a little too long, it doesn't hurt like it has.

"You coming?" Hawkeye asks, stopping a few feet from the door as he realizes Trap isn't with them. Hunnicutt smiles and wiggles his fingers, beckoning him closer, and it’s an invitation if Trap's ever seen one.

"Yeah," Trapper says, a grin breaking out on his face. "Yeah I am."

-fin-

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to pr0serpina for letting me scream this at her, justalittlegreen for the angsty goodness that is her dark!Trap series (go check out Tente à Trois if you haven't yet!) and the rest of the crew over at the Swamp.  
> special thanks to clara and alea for helping me with the title.


End file.
